


A Friend in Need

by JuxtaposeFantasy



Series: Wei Yichen Whumpfest [1]
Category: My Strange Friend | Super Talent (TV), 我的奇怪朋友 | My Strange Friend (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Off-screen Implied Noncon, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuxtaposeFantasy/pseuds/JuxtaposeFantasy
Summary: Read the tags!Duanmu Hao is not guilty. He's not! Guilt isn't the reason he enters Third Master's warehouse to find out what's going on with the mysterious person called Wei Yichen.  And guilt isn't the reason he stays. An extra whump re-telling of the opening scene of the series.
Relationships: Others/Wei Yichen
Series: Wei Yichen Whumpfest [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934977
Comments: 13
Kudos: 31





	A Friend in Need

**Author's Note:**

> Let's face it: My Strange Friend is a whump fest. But I thought, why not make it even more so? Plus, we need some hurt/comfort. I probably could have written more comfort. If I do more in this fandom, I'll be sure to pay attention to that as I further abuse Wei Yichen. 
> 
> Blame this fic on how good Wang Yibo looks while being beaten up and on sublanwangji, an awful enabler. Btw, is this the first fic for this fandom posted here? Where are the others??!

Duanmu Hao followed the voices through the dark warehouse, eventually noticing a source of light which guided him the rest of the way. Normally, he would steer clear of such shady places, but he was promised a payoff and since he’d earned it, he was damn well going to claim what was his.

The voices ahead were all male as he expected. The Third Master seemed interested only in obtaining power and controlling others, both of which demanded intimidation and violence on a large scale. Getting involved with him had been risky, but once the Third Master had called on him, what was he supposed to do? Refuse? Besides, the job had seemed easy: lure out the person—someone named Wei Yichen—who allegedly was squatting in an abandoned warehouse that the Third Master wanted to tear down. It sounded legitimate and easy enough, and the pay promised him had been substantial. Now, though, as Duanmu Hao pushed carefully forward toward the light and voices, he questioned the wisdom of getting involved with such a gangster.

His steps slowed when he heard a familiar sound from school. When he spied—or make that _admired_ —Ruoyi, he often heard such sounds coming from her training room. What came from ahead sounded similar to when she punched the punching bag or when she boxed against others, a dull thud of impact into a solid object. But Duanmu Hao didn’t think anyone was practicing on a punching bag. Not unless punching bags could grunt and gasp.

He slowed to a stop. He could turn around. No one knew he was there, and he doubted the Third Master would hunt him down to pay him. Getting involved in whatever was up ahead sounded like a really bad idea.

But the thing was, the grunts and groans he heard sounded as though they came from someone young. Maybe even someone his age. Could he, in good conscience, leave someone his age at the mercy of Third Master?

_Of course, you fool! Now turn around and get the hell out!_

He turned on his heel and hurried back the way he’d come.

“No one will miss you, Wei Yichen. No one in the world will care that you’re gone.”

Duanmu Hao skidded to a stop at the low voice of the Third Master. So _that’s_ what the man sounded like when he was issuing death threats. _No thanks! Keep going, Duanmu Hao!_

And he would have, except the words that the Third Master had spoken bothered him. Wei Yichen was the guy Duanmu Hao was supposed to help evict. He’d thought the mission was to move the guy out, not get him killed.

_No one will miss you. No one in the world will care that you’re gone._

How could there be someone of Duanmu Hao’s age who wouldn’t be missed by friends or family? It seemed impossible. Everyone had someone.

But Third Master’s taunt wriggled beneath Duanmu Hao’s skin because it held the ring of truth to it. Whoever Wei Yichen was, he was indeed alone in the world. And when the Third Master killed him, apparently no one would care.

It was a sickening thought. Duanmu Hao couldn’t fully empathize with it since he was a people person with a huge social network, but the possibility of it being true troubled him enough to turn him back around. Duanmu Hao wouldn’t be able to save this Wei Yichen. He was only one skinny kid against all of Third Master’s men. There was just no way. But maybe…maybe if he looked in Wei Yichen’s eyes and let him know that someone was aware of him and would remember him…maybe that would be something good he could do. Maybe that would provide some comfort. Hell, maybe by entering the scene, Duanmu Hao could postpone it or stop it altogether.

_Or maybe Third Master will kill you, too, since you’ll be a witness._

Definitely a possibility. A pretty awful one, actually, and Duanmu Hao was inclined to spin back around _again_ and hightail it out of there. But more punches landed on Wei Yichen, who let out a muffled whimper as though he were pinching his lips to hold back any evidence of suffering. It was the first Duanmu Hao had heard from him so far. He must be really hurting now. 

Duanmu Hao palmed the back of his neck anxiously. The least he could do was try, right?

Hating himself for this streak of nobility that was probably going to get him killed, he continued forward. A room was up ahead, and through its windows he could see a couple of dozen guys in black suits facing away from him. Taking a deep breath, Duanmu Hao threaded his way between them.

“I’ll cut off one of your fingers every minute,” Third Master said, “until you agree to sign the agreement.”

Duanmu Hao’s eyes bulged and he pushed his way through to an opening. “Third Master! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This place is so hard to find. It took me so long.”

He grinned and acted oblivious to the young man in black who was being held on his knees to his left. Duanmu Hao kept his eyes on Third Master who, in true villain style, held a smoking cigar while he sat behind a desk beneath ominous lighting.

“Duanmu Hao,” Third Master said, sounding bored. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking that everything came out to your satisfaction,” Duanmu Hao replied, grinning.

“We’re getting there. Someone’s being difficult.”

There were pieces of broken glass scattered across Third Master’s desk and over the binder of papers there. More glass was strewn across the floor. A trail of the pieces led back to the left, to Wei Yichen. The light sparkled in his hair. More glass? It might explain the twin trails of blood on his face.

“Seems messy,” Duanmu Hao said off-handedly, trying not to show how freaked out he was by the scene he was piecing together.

Third Master narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Cutting off fingers. Lots of mess. Blood, bleh.” Duanmu Hao shivered theatrically. “Seems there’s gotta be a better way.”

Third Master stared at him. “Squeamish, are you? Far be it for me to upset you. Maybe you’d prefer the old-fashioned way.” He snapped his fingers.

The man holding the cigar cutter around Wei Yichen’s fingers— Duanmu Hao figured he must be the Number 2 man—took the device away and pocketed it. Wei Yichen didn’t react with relief. He stared at Duanmu Hao from beneath the ragged, matted fall of his hair, his eyes intent as though he knew Duanmu Hao was at least partly responsible for his current predicament. More blood trickled down his temple. The redness around Wei Yichen's mouth promised some brutal bruising later. If he lived long enough to bruise.

The knee to Wei Yichen’s gut caught him off-guard. He gasped and bent forward as much as he could while held up by the arms by the goons on either side of him. The moment he straightened up, Number 2 backhanded him across the face, making Duanmu Hao wince. Number 2 waited for Wei Yichen to raise his head again and then slapped him across the other cheek.

 _Shit,_ Duanmu Hao thought as Number 2 continued to slap Wei Yichen and drive his knee into his gut or chest. _Maybe losing a finger would have been better._

But logic overcame emotions. For as bad as this was to witness, getting beaten up was preferable to being maimed. Duanmu Hao just had to make sure it remained like this.

“What’d he do, anyway?” he asked with a strained laugh as Wei Yichen spat a mouthful of blood to the concrete. Number 2 grabbed a fistful of Wei Yichen’s hair and held his face up while he delivered a series of stinging slaps that brought more blood to Wei Yichen’s already stained lips. Despite the violence that had been inflicted to his face, it was clear how handsome he was. _What a shame,_ Duanmu Hao thought, _that you ran across Third Master._

Wei Yichen remained mostly silent through the abuse, but his gasping breaths hinted at the pain he must be in. Duanmu Hao inwardly grimaced in sympathy. If it were him in Wei Yichen’s place, he’d be bawling like a baby and calling for his mother.

“Why do you care what he’s done?” Third Master asked as he studied Duanmu Hao through the smoke of his cigar.

“I mean, I don’t. Not really! Just…wondering so I don’t make the same mistake!” Duanmu Hao grinned brightly.

“Disobeying me.” Third Master filled the air with another gray cloud. “He’s disobeying me. Once he obeys me like a good boy, the pain will end. You hear that, Wei Yichen? This punishment is your own fault. It will stop as soon as you sign the agreement.”

When Wei Yichen did nothing but glare at the older man, Number 2 yanked his head back by the hair and squeezed his face. “Answer him when he speaks to you.”

Wei Yichen remained silent. He only curled his hands into claws and sort of waved them as though throwing invisible balls at Third Master. The gangster just shook his head.

“You’re the same age as my son,” he murmured, “but you’re nothing like him. I’d admire you if you weren’t so stupid.” He snapped his fingers. “Break him. Make it personal.”

Number 2’s eyebrows lifted but he nodded and his expression became devious. He loosened the grip he had on Wei Yichen’s face enough to rub his thumb across the blood leaking from the younger man’s lip. Something in the way he did it—how slowly, perhaps—sent a shiver of misgiving through Duanmu Hao.

“You’re stubborn now,” Number 2 murmured, leaning closer to Wei Yichen, “but let’s see how quickly I can soften you up.”

He jerked his head as a signal to the goons nearest to him, who closed around him and Wei Yichen to form a wall of bodies. Duanmu Hao could no longer see the two of them from where he stood.

“Eh, what happens next?” he asked, uneasy. His tension mounted as he listened to sounds of struggle and fabric ripping.

“Now, I wait.” Third Master studied the glowing end of his cigar. “You would be wiser not to wait with me.”

“And I appreciate the suggestion, Third Master.” Duanmu Hao ran a finger around the inside of his collar. “It’s just—you said you’d pay me tonight.”

Both of them looked to the open briefcase full of cash that sat on Third Master’s desk.

“The situation has changed,” the gangster drawled. “I appreciate your help.”

He paused pointedly. There would be no payment. Third Master was allowing him to leave, _that_ was his payment.

 _This jerk!_ Duanmu Hao was pissed, but he was just as upset with himself. What should he have expected, dealing with such an unscrupulous person? _Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas._ Duanmu Hao was covered in them.

But so was Wei Yichen now. He was in the clutches of Third Master because of Duanmu Hao. _Only_ because of Duanmu Hao.

_“Who knew you’d take it so easily, hmm?”_

Duanmu Hao’s eyes widened. He snapped his head to look to the mass of goons where Number 2’s voice had come. Duanmu Hao still couldn’t see him or Wei Yichen, but he could hear the henchman.

The sound of spitting. A grunt. A low groan. 

_“That’s it. Good for something after all, aren’t you? Yeah…ahh. That’s good. Keep fighting it. Tighter. Makes it better for me.”_

All the hair on Duanmu Hao’s body jumped up off his skin. Nausea rolled up his throat. He _knew_. He knew what that tone of voice meant. Shocked to his core, he forgot how to breathe as he listened to rhythmic slapping and occasional grunts and bitten-off gasps.

_“Ahhh. I’m nearly there. Too bad you’d bite me or I’d made you choke on it. Nnnh…Who’s going to be next?”_

_“Let me, sir. I’m ready.”_

_“I should be next!”_

_“Tch, don’t fight. You’ll all get a turn…Take a good look at him, Wei Yichen. I said look at him!... Does that scare you? It should. He’s going to split you in two with that…”_

“Duanmu Hao.”

He nearly screamed at being called out. He stumbled back, away from Third Master.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the gangster said with the beginnings of a smirk on his face. “I’ll tell you just once more: go home. You don’t want the treatment that Wei Yichen is receiving.”

“No,” Duanmu Hao whispered in agreement and horror. He didn’t. He needed to leave immediately. 

He glanced back at the mob. Wei Yichen still hadn’t made a sound. How? How could Wei Yichen keep silent through what they were doing to him? How was he still resisting? Still refusing to break for them? Duanmu Hao could leave, but…could he leave behind such a valiant struggle?

He would if he wanted to live.

_“Ah, ah, ahhhhh!”_

Duanmu Hao struggled not to vomit at the orgasmic groan that came from within the mob.

 _“Mmm. That was good.”_ A smack. _“You’re a good ride, Wei Yichen. Maybe Third Master can market your skills.”_ Number 2 laughed. _“Alright, your turn. You don’t need more spit. Hold him like this and make him—"_

Duanmu Hao pressed a hand over his eyes. “I’m leaving,” he whispered.

“Smart boy,” Third Master said. “Forget tonight.”

“Yeah, I—” Duanmu Hao stumbled away, refusing to look at the other man. “I will.”

He ran from the room.

If he ran fast enough, he was sure he could run from this memory. He’d never met Wei Yichen. It would be easy to pretend he’d never come across the name, never came to this warehouse or saw the glare of betrayal, heard that single whimper of suffering…

“You stupid, stupid--!” Duanmu Hao reached his car and slapped both palms on the roof. “Never do business with gangsters! That goes for you, too, stupid Wei Yichen! I don’t even know you and I already dislike you.”

Groaning, he dropped his head to the roof. “There’s nothing I can do. I’m just a kid going up against too much power. There’s nothing I can do.”

He pulled away from the roof, sniffed, and wiped at the tears of frustration beading at the corners of his eyes. He looked back the way he’d come. He thought about what Wei Yichen was going through, how many men had assaulted him and how many more were waiting to do so. That was terrible enough, but after? They’d kill him for sure. Third Master couldn’t afford to let him survive.

A light-colored object in the alley caught Duanmu Hao’s eye. Curious, he walked up to it and picked it up. It was a motorcycle helmet. It seemed to be new, or at least not a piece of trash that should have been lying here. He looked up at the warehouse. His gut told him it belonged to Wei Yichen. 

It was like a wordless cry for help.

Duanmu Hao fisted his eyes. How could he ignore it?

“I really hate you,” he muttered.

The helmet, when he pulled it on, crushed his ears.

He drove through the wall like he was in an action movie. It was pretty cool. Cooler still was seeing Third Master’s goons scatter like cockroaches. Less cool was what they revealed in their midst: Wei Yichen on all fours with his pants puddled around his knees.

Duanmu Hao gasped at the sight, but Wei Yichen lifted his head and when he saw his helmet and the car, he quickly yanked up his pants and jumped to his feet as though he were perfectly fine. A nearby goon whose pants were open received a vicious kick to the nuts. Wei Yichen punched another goon in the balls not once, but twice. 

“Come on!” Duanmu Hao yelled through the helmet.

Pandemonium broke out as Wei Yichen dove across the hood of Duanmu Hao’s car and jumped into the passenger seat.

Duanmu Hao floored it, crashing through another wall to freedom. He drove like a maniac for ten minutes, frantically checking the mirrors for pursuers, but there didn’t seem to be any. When he glanced to the passenger side, he discovered Wei Yichen slumped against the door, apparently unconscious.

“Shit.” 

Was he dying? Did he have internal injuries?

Panicking, Duanmu Hao pulled over to the side of the road and lifted the helmet visor as he leaned over Wei Yichen. His face had begun to swell and the bruises were darkening. There was a lot of blood in his hair. Duanmu Hao didn’t think any of those injuries would kill a person, though he hoped for Wei Yichen’s sake that they didn’t permanently mar his face. Now that he could see Wei Yichen up-close, Duanmu Hao marveled at just how good-looking he was.

_Focus!_

Cursing himself, he opened Wei Yichen’s shirt. More bruises covered his chest as though someone had tried to punch a map of the world into his skin. Duanmu Hao delicately felt Wei Yichen’s thin chest, but he didn’t feel anything poking out abnormally, though he supposed ribs could be cracked. He had no idea.

He took a deep breath and lowered his attention. Wei Yichen had managed to fasten the button on his pants but not zipped up the fly. After a check to make sure Wei Yichen was still unconscious, Duanmu Hao carefully slipped the button through the buttonhole and lowered the waistband as far as he could.

He hissed with dismay at the bruising on the other man’s hips. Wei Yichen’s good looks probably hadn’t done him any favors. Third Master’s men had obviously been too enthusiastic in their assault of him. Duanmu Hao’s gorge rose at the sight of fingerprint-shaped bruises around Wei Yichen’s hipbones. There were crescent indentations from fingernails in his skin and deep scratches leading beneath his pants toward his inner thighs. Duanmu Hao couldn’t see the band of his underwear. That must have been the fabric he’d heard being torn…

_Don’t think about it. Act. This guy needs medical attention that you can’t give him._

He carefully zipped up and fastened Wei Yichen’s pants for him before settling back behind the wheel. He knew of a hospital not too far away. He raced for it.

When he pulled up in front of the building, Wei Yichen stirred. Duanmu Hao excitedly pulled the helmet off to reveal his identity. 

“It’s me! It’s a surprise, isn’t it?” he asked proudly.

Wei Yichen punched him in the face.

“Ow!” Duanmu Hao jumped out of the car. “What’s wrong with you? I saved your life and you punch me?”

Wei Yichen staggered out of the other side. He could barely stand upright, but the glare he shot across the roof of the car made Duanmu Hao flinch.

“You’re to blame for this,” Wei Yichen hissed.

Guilt blasted Duanmu Hao, but he still yelled, “You would have lost your toes if it weren’t for me!”

Wei Yichen let out a strangled noise before raising his clawed hand and aiming it at Duanmu Hao as though he thought he could shoot a fireball from his palm. He flung his hand at Duanmu Hao several times with no result before a sob broke from his lips.

The sound was devastating.

“Hey,” Duanmu Hao said more softly. “You’re not to blame, either. What they did—it wasn’t right.”

Bleakness stole over Wei Yichen’s face. It was the first time he appeared to acknowledge the torture he’d endured. “I lost everything,” he croaked.

Duanmu Hao licked his lips nervously. “Not everything. You’re still alive, right?”

Wei Yichen’s laugh was empty. He swayed where he stood.

“Hey!”

Duanmu Hao sprinted around the back of the car just in time to catch Wei Yichen as he collapsed.

“Hey,” Duanmu Hao repeated as he braced Wei Yichen’s body against the side of the car. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Wei Yichen whispered. His head hung low. The dirty mass of his hair—sparkling with broken glass—hid his face. He clutched weakly at Duanmu Hao’s shirt. His knuckles were raw and bleeding, testament to the fight he’d put up before he was overcome. 

“You’ll—you’ll be okay,” Duanmu Hao said anxiously, wishing he knew what to say. He awkwardly stroked Wei Yichen’s shoulder, afraid of putting pressure on any injuries. “We’re at the hospital. They’ll fix you up. They’ll take care of you.”

 _But how can they fix what was done to him?_ he asked himself. _No doctor can heal that._

He didn’t know Wei Yichen. He had never seen him before tonight. But as he gently wiped blood away from Wei Yichen’s eyes, he felt responsible for his well-being. Of course it was mostly his fault that Wei Yichen had been hurt in the first place, but Duanmu Hao wasn’t the one who’d ordered the abuse. He’d only been doing a job…

And now he’d made an enemy of Third Master. As Wei Yichen began to tremble from shock, Duanmu Hao felt the risk had been worth it.

“I’ll take you inside,” he said softly to Wei Yichen’s battered face. “I’ll make sure they take care of you.”

He slung one of Wei Yichen’s arms over his shoulders and began half-carrying him up the hospital ramp to the doorway.

“You’re really brave, you know that?” Duanmu Hao told him. “You were tougher than any of them.”

“Lot of good that did me,” Wei Yichen mumbled, his words slurring. It seemed likely he had a head injury on top of everything else that had been done to him. Duanmu Hao marveled at how tough he was.

“I admire you. I really do. Third Master is a powerful guy, but you stood up to him. I don’t know anyone who would’ve done that. I’m just—I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him from hurting you.” Duanmu Hao swallowed around the lump in his throat. “You didn’t deserve what was done to you,” he whispered. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Wei Yichen said nothing. His weight against Duanmu Hao grew heavier.

Just as they reached an empty wheelchair that was sitting outside the lobby, Wei Yichen fainted. Duanmu Hao eased him into the chair and paused a moment to really look at him. Wei Yichen looked terribly vulnerable with all his injuries, yet there was something strong about him, too, the bruising proving how long he’d held out. Duanmu Hao wasn’t attracted to other guys as far as he knew, but he realized he’d become a little infatuated with Wei Yichen. Something about him—tough yet hurting—was just so compelling.

_It must be guilt._

Putting the troubling thought out of his mind, he wheeled Wei Yichen into the hospital. A nurse hurried up to him.

“What are his injuries? Where is his family?”

Duanmu Hao thought regretfully, _He has none. He’s all alone in the world. Except for me._

He smiled at the nurse. “They’re just outside! I’ll go get them.”

He drove off without a look back. However, Wei Yichen’s helmet sat beside him on the passenger seat, guaranteeing that Duanmu Hao’s escape was only temporary. He had a feeling Wei Yichen was going to be in his life now, for better or for worse.


End file.
